late for supper. Sherman's wife was in a snit. She caused quite a
commotion banging on the front door of the bank, drawing curious
glances, and when it wasn't promptly answered, she dragged her daughter
around to the back door. Neither Emmeline nor her mother looked down
at the curled-up drunk. Their disdain evident, they kept their noses
in the air and stared straight ahead. Emmeline had to lift her skirt
to step over Billie's feet, which were sticking out from the filthy
tarp she thought he was using as a cover. She did so without giving
him so much as a fleeting glance. Once they had rounded the corner,
her mother unlatched her grip on her daughter's arm, flung the door
open, and marched inside shouting her husband's name. Emmeline meekly
followed.
Their blood-curdling screams were heard as far away as the cemetery,
and folks came running to find out what was happening. Those who saw
the grizzly tableau inside the lobby, before Sheriff Sloan could get
there and seal the doors, would never be the same. John Cletchem, the
photographer the sheriff summoned to take pictures for posterity,
became so sick at the eerie sight, that he had to keep running outside
to throw up in the street. Two of the victims, Franklin Carroll and
Malcolm Watterson, had been shot simultaneously and had fallen into
each other.
They were both still on their knees and appeared to be embracing, with
their heads drooping over each other's shoulder.
Daniel Ryan had a near riot on his hands when he rode into town at five
minutes past one the following afternoon. Because of a torrential
downpour, the journey had taken longer than expected. Sheriff Sloan
met him in front of the bank, gave him the details, and then unlocked
the door and followed him inside.
The bodies hadn't been removed from the lobby. If Ryan was sickened by
the sight before him, he didn't show it. He slowly walked around the
scene and stared down at the dead from every possible angle. There was
only one telltale sign that he was affected. His hands were in fists
at his sides.
In a strangled whisper, Sloan said, 'I didn't know if I should let the
bodies be taken out or leave them alone for you to see. Did I do the
right thing? ' Before Ryan could answer him, the sheriff continued.
'There was another body found in the alley next to the bank. His name
was Billie, and he was the town drunk. They used a knife on him, and
before I could tell the funeral men to leave him be, they carted him
off and put him in the ground. I had pictures taken of these poor men,
but Billie was already gone, so I didn't get any pictures of him. '
The stench was getting to him. Sloan held a handkerchief over his
mouth and nose to block the smell. He couldn't make himself look at
his friends, but stared at the ceiling instead. 'I don't want the
